


Corn Silk

by Swanny_Writer



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, The recent photos of WonHui at the airport gave me a lot of feels, This spiraled out of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 09:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11780487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanny_Writer/pseuds/Swanny_Writer
Summary: For once, Wonwoo and Jun have the room to themselves, and Wonwoo wants to hear more of Jun's voice.(Or the one where WonHui talk about Jun's new hair color)





	Corn Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SweaterAndJeans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweaterAndJeans/gifts).



> To Tanvi,  
> For always making me cry with your beautiful and emotional headcanons about WonHui. I hope this is enough to convey how grateful I am to you and our friendship (つ﹏⊂)
> 
> To BlueShade,  
> Happy (late?) Birthday! I'm sorry, I said I'd have Ch. 5 done today, but I'm a failure. Pls make do with this tiny fic for now. I'll make it up to you!（>﹏<）

 

Wonwoo looks ahead as he follows behind Mingyu and Seungcheol. The vision in his periphery shifts as different members move around, their voices mingling with the ambient white noise. The group has just finished a commercial for school uniforms. To be honest, Wonwoo can’t recall much of anything through the whirlwind of motions. Who could blame him, though? They’re in the middle of a tour, flying back and forth between different countries, fitting in small jobs during their “off” days along with regular practices. It’s a wonder he can still function properly. He should count himself lucky, though; he wasn’t among the ones dragged off to the salon to get their hair changed yet again. One less outing for him.

With that thought in mind, he lifts his head once more, eyes squinting at the glare of the sunlight. He reaches up to adjust the brim of the cap over his head, then proceeds to scan the scene. It doesn’t take long to spot him, walking a few members ahead, laughing at something Soonyoung or Hansol said; the sight brings a small smile to Wonwoo’s face. Truth be told, Wonwoo’s never had trouble finding him, whether it be among the crowds or at the dorms. It’s a strange, but not unpleasant feeling, that seems to tie him to the other. An invisible thread that’s been sewed into his heart so seamlessly over the course of their lives, he can’t even recall a time when it wasn’t there. He’s come to attribute the little tugs in his chest to that thread; the tugs that always alerted him of the dancer’s presence.

Lately, though, locating the boy at the other end of that thread has been more than easy. The challenge would have resided in ignoring the vibrant violet strands or sweet pink. Wonwoo hadn’t seen the new color until today’s shoot, and he certainly didn’t register the effects it had on him until this particular moment.

Sunlight caresses the pale blond locks lovingly, adding warmth and shimmer to the otherwise cool hue. Specs of gold gleam with every turn he takes, sparkling like hidden treasure among the soft strands. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call the sight in front of him angelic. 

Wonwoo sighs, hitching the strap of his bag higher.

As if capable of sensing the apparent sagging of his shoulders and mood, Junhui turns. Their eyes meet, and a soft smile forms on his lips, accompanying the familiar head tilt. The gesture is small, the only one allowed in their current circumstances, but it’s able to loosen the knots in Wonwoo’s stomach. He finds himself reciprocating, and the answering grin is brighter than the sun.

 

The lovers don’t get a proper moment to themselves until well later in the evening. Whether it be pure luck or out of courtesy from the members, the two find themselves alone in their room. They share the small space of the bottom bunk, with its owner leaning against the wall while holding Junhui to his chest. The dancer shifts, finding the most comfortable position. He settles in between Wonwoo’s legs, using the slightly bent knees to rest his elbows as he scrolls through his phone. 

Junhui’s lilting voice floats around the room as he reads the story aloud, making himself giggle and shake his head whenever he stumbles over a particularly difficult syllable. Smiling against the crown of his hair, Wonwoo waits until the mangled word is spoken, before he gently repeats it with the right elocution.

“Ahh,” Junhui sighs with a hint of self-deprecative amusement. “Korean is hard.”

“But you’re doing fine,” Wonwoo replies right away, automatically punctuating the praise with a peck to his hair. “It’s just certain letters.”

“Mm.”

With a poke to the chest, he gets Junhui to glance up at him. “The language is difficult, even for native speakers. You seem to forget how Seokmin gets it wrong every so often.”

The two chuckle quietly with affection at the way their younger member would confuse himself then simply laugh it off afterward.

“You’re so much better at reading out loud,” Junhui points out, lifting his head to meet Wonwoo’s gaze upside down. “How come I’m the one doing it?”

Wonwoo shrugs. “Practice makes perfect, you should know that,” he teases, then softens his gaze. “Besides, your voice is nice.”

A faint blush turns his cheeks rosy as Junhui flicks his eyes back to the screen. “Thanks,” he murmurs, then swallows before continuing his thoughts. Wonwoo’s known him long enough to see the sign that he’s trying to change the subject, turning to humor to escape. “But if we don’t take turns, my voice is going to get all scratchy by tomorrow.”

Junhui's naivety really makes teasing him too easy. 

Wonwoo lines his lips by his boyfriend’s ear, purposely lowering the pitch of his voice. “There are other ways I could make you lose your voice other than reading aloud, if you’d prefer.” 

Shutting his eyes, Junhui suppresses the shudder wracking through his body, and Wonwoo smirks proudly at the elicited response. A whine escapes as Junhui pouts and stares up at him with dusted pink cheeks. “We’re in the middle of a tour, Jeon Wonwoo,” he states gravely, although the receiver of the supposed severe tone finds it hard not to smile at the cuteness. “Me losing my voice would be _very_ bad.” 

The laughter does escape him this time as he squeezes the boy in his arms. “Do you want me to take over then?” he asks, hand already grasping around the tan fingers to lift the screen higher to his eye line.

“It’s fine,” Junhui replies, but keeps his hand where it is. “I’ll finish this chapter, and you can start the next one.”

And so they settle back in, the gentle cadence of Junhui’s voice reaping more contentment out of Wonwoo than any story could. A few peaceful minutes pass like that, disturbed only by the occasional shouts and laughter from outside, and the thumping of feet as yet another chase of some sort occurs. When the boys take a moment to listen as they wait for the page to load, the ruckus tonight seems to center around Mingyu’s clumsiness and Minghao's choice between defending his boyfriend or siding with the victim of the resulting accident.

“Poor Mingyu,” Junhui muses. “Hopefully his long legs give him the advantage on whoever is chasing him.”

Wonwoo hums. “If he’s smart, he’ll run for the bathroom and lock it.”

“Not like that does any good,” comes Junhui’s mutter with a laugh. When Wonwoo glimpses at him, he elaborates, “I don’t know what you guys did, but after that birthday surprise,” a giggle, “it’s as easy to unlock from the outside as it is to lock on the inside.”

Narrowing his eyes, Wonwoo wonders, “How do you know that? Did _you_ try to sneak into someone’s shower?”

“What!” Junhui exclaims in mock offense. “I have manners, thank you very much.” The theatrics prompts the brunet to roll his eyes. “But no. Soonyoung burst in on me one morning, claiming his bladder was about to burst from his bet with Seokmin.” 

Now Wonwoo remembers, and he makes a face. “As stupid as it was, I have to tip my hat. No one should be able to drink two litters of soda in less than a minute.” 

Junhui agrees with a nod. “Very impressive.” 

The page loads up, finally, just in time for the noise in the hallway to die down. With luck, that means Mingyu managed to escape. The boys return to the story. Toward the end of the chapter, Junhui pauses, and initially, Wonwoo thinks it’s because he’s been trumped by another difficult pronunciation. But he reads through the entire paragraph without issues, the words rolling off his tongue with perfect speech.

Brows furrowed, he points to a passage. “What’s corn silk?” Head shifting to meet Wonwoo’s gaze, he adds, “I mean, I know what it is, but what color is it? Pale green?”

Wonwoo chuckles, whether from the question or the serious look on Junhui’s face at the apparent mystery of the color, he’s not sure. Maybe both. Junhui does tend to make him laugh a lot for no concrete reason. 

“If you peel back the layers around on an actual ear of corn, I suppose it would appear so,” he answers. “But I’m pretty sure they don’t mean the heroine in the 1800s dyed her hair green like Jihoon.” The imagery amuses Junhui, because he bursts into laughter, head lolling sideway to rest over Wonwoo’s left pectoral muscle.

Wonwoo responds to the bright smile, staring at the twinkles in the deep and dark eyes, contrasting so beautifully against the light color of his hair. He lifts a hand from around Junhui’s chest to tug at a strand. “Corn silk is pretty much your hair color now,” he says.

“Oh!” Junhui’s eyes widen as his mouth forms a tiny O. He flickers his eyes to the bangs, seemingly very excited at the prospect of having the same hair color as the book character.

To get his attention, Wonwoo leans down and bumps their foreheads gently together. When the older focuses on him with an innocent smile, Wonwoo feels that tug in his chest again. His gaze turns fond as he muses, “I haven’t seen this look on you in years.” As the words are spoken, fingers play with the silky hair at the back of the dancer’s head.

It must have tickled, because the latter giggles and curls up his shoulders. Wonwoo laughs along, grabbing the boy into his arms and repositioning them against his chest. The weight is so familiar and comforting, he sighs contently as he gazes at his boyfriend with adoration. Fingers reach to leisurely lift and drop the blond locks, enjoying the way they feel against his skin. 

A teasing glint flashes in Junhui’s eyes as he leans back and grins. “Are you falling for me all over again?”

Despite it being delivered as a joke, Wonwoo takes the time to consider the question. A lot of memories filter through his mind, ups and downs, fights and celebrations. Looking back, he didn’t fall in love with Junhui as a blond. No, it happened much earlier on, not that he was conscious of it at the time. It had happened so gradually, coming at him so softly, the next thing he knew, he was in love with his bandmate. He couldn’t pinpoint _the moment_ it'd happened until a few months ago, actually, when a fan had asked him to draw Junhui, and he ended up doodling his boyfriend in pre-debut look and style. 

If that had been the first time he fell in love, then every moment afterward simply reinforced the idea that you can and definitely do fall in love multiple times. For Wonwoo, it occurs every day he spends with Junhui. Every time the older smiles at him, every time he rolls his eyes at the bad jokes, every time he kisses him. It’s during late night meals, when Junhui cooks for two. It’s throughout the day when his fellow 96-liner sneaks him a snack without the kids seeing. It’s in the morning, when he waits until the last minute to wake Wonwoo up to give him as much sleep as he can. A hand carding through his hair. Long fingers sliding in between his. Warm limbs wrapped around his body. A sweet and hoarse voice moaning his name. A man writhing in pleasure from his ministration.

"Wonwoo~" Junhui calls, lacing their fingers together, and uses their tangled hands to poke at the rapper’s cheek. 

He blinks out of the musings, reminded of the blond’s earlier comment. With a smirk that quickly turns fond, he murmurs, “Maybe.”

The response and tender gaze takes Junhui by surprise, and he blushes. Unable to hold eye contact, he drops his focus to their joined fingers instead. Wonwoo lifts his free hand and grazes the warm cheek. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Junhui admits in a small voice.

Wonwoo smile’s widens, expression turning playful as he gazes at the shy kitten. He runs a hand over Junhui’s forehead, brushing away the bangs from his eyes. In the same action, his touch lingers over the side of his boyfriend’s face, ending at his chin, which he raises with a gentle nudge.

“What would you do if I didn’t like it?” he wants to know, eyes flicking upward to indicate the hair color.

Looking up from beneath his lashes, Junhui bites his lip. The sight makes Wonwoo’s stomach tumble, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to kiss him senseless. “Well,” Junhui starts hesitantly, “There’s not much I _could_ do, but I’d be really bummed.”

Wonwoo hums, scooting closer to nuzzle his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. The latter leans sideway to give him better access. The younger breathes him in: the smell of soap and shampoo, a faint trace of cologne, and the unmistakable scent belonging to  _Junnie_. The rapper settles into the comforting silence, arms tightening around the boy, smiling into the soft skin. This close, he listens to the steady breaths Junhui inhales and releases, as well as the erratic beating of his heart. It’s cute how even after all this time, Junhui still feels nervous. 

The serene moment is only interrupted a few seconds later by a murmur, “I guess I’d borrow a hat from Hansol.”

The comment, so light yet carrying so much seriousness at the same, causes Wonwoo to chuckle, warm breath fanning across his neck. Junhui squirms at the tickling feeling, and Wonwoo kisses the spot by the blond’s jaw. “You’re adorable,” he says, prompting a peel of giggles to escape. Smiling from the beautiful sound, Wonwoo straightens up so he can hold eye contact as he goes on, “Whatever hair color you end up with, whether it’s blond, black, brown, blue, purple, or pink. Regardless, you’d still be my Junnie.”

A shy but elated expression takes over Junhui’s face, and a smile blooms. “Promise? Even if they dye my hair green?”

Another chuckle fills the air, and Wonwoo nods, fingers seeking the other’s as he leans closer to rest their foreheads together. “Sure, I’ve always eaten all of my vegetables.” 

The blush returns to Junhui’s cheeks, and he tries to conceal it with an eye roll. Wonwoo watches him with delight, gaze tender, mouth lifting up in a smirk. He runs the pad of his thumb over the full bottom lip, keeping steady eye contact. A silent question. A wordless request that gets answered with a tiny, almost indiscernible nod. The minute distance between the boys disappears almost immediately as lips connect and teeth graze; tongues stroke and sooth the nips and bites in their wake.

Wonwoo cradles the side of Junhui’s face, deepening the kiss as he moves their bodies to the center of the bed, one hand on Junhui’s waist to guide him down. He hovers over him, sensing arms coming to encircle his neck and pull him closer. Their chests are pressed together, hearts pounding as one. Pale fingers slide past the hem of the tee, seeking the expanse of heated golden skin underneath. A contented sigh slips out of full, parted lips. Wonwoo leans over to swallow the ones following it, intent on producing more delicious sounds from the dancer tonight. 

The taste of Junhui’s sweet lips lingers on Wonwoo’s tongue as he breaks the kiss to let the former breathe. He smirks at him smugly, enjoying the sight of the older’s flushed skin and dilated pupils, the heaving of chest, the sensation of his fingers gripping the hair at the back of Wonwoo’s head. Fair hair fans out against the pillow, contrasting beautifully with the navy blue fabric. A bright point of light in the middle of the dark.

Wonwoo threads his fingers through the bangs, grinning when Junhui shivers. He nuzzles in close, lips brushing against the shell of the other’s ear. “Will you sing for me, Junnie?”

“But the concert!” he whines, which quickly morphs into a needy moan when Wonwoo licks his way down to the defined collarbones. 

“We have a couple days off, don’t we?” he retorts, sucking on the skin with enough expertise to draw a series of mewls out of the sulking kitten. He rubs himself against the latter’s thigh, “Please, Junnie?”

“You’re so…” he starts, but neither finishes nor protests when Wonwoo slips his hands inside the shirt and pulls it over his head. 

Wonwoo sits up to remove his own tee, straddling his boyfriend as he runs his hands along the slender waist. The feather-like touch makes the latter whimper, biting onto his bottom lip. “I’m so what?” he taunts, smirking with satisfaction.

Junhui narrows his eyes into what he believes is a scathing glare. “Unfair,” he mutters right before pulling Wonwoo back down to meet his kisses. The rapper responds enthusiastically, grinning into the kiss. “You… better… make losing my voice… worth it,” he pants, gripping onto Wonwoo’s bony shoulder as the latter nips and sucks his way down, leaving behind blooming flowers across the golden skin.

Smirking up from his spot on Junhui’s chest, he starts traveling further south. “Don’t I always?”

 

The next day, much to Seungcheol’s exasperation and Jeonghan’s amusement, the couple arrive in the living room wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. While Wonwoo strides to his seat with ease, Junhui appears extra careful with his steps. 

Their poor leader heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Really?” He directs his disappointment toward his unit member, shooting an arm out toward the slightly limping dancer. “In the middle of a tour?”

Wonwoo feigns ignorance as he shrugs and grabs a plate and some pieces of toast. 

“Sorry, Seungcheol,” Junhui croaks out, voice barely above a whisper. The scratchy sound makes every head turn in his direction. Eleven pairs of eyes widen. Only the man responsible for the voice loss seems happy as he hides his smirk with a bite into the buttered toast. Junhui presses his sleeve-covered palms over his burning cheeks and sits down next to Hansol and Jihoon.

“ _Really?!”_ the eldest repeats with more desperation this time. “We’re in the middle of a tour!”

While Junhui looks appropriately apologetic, receiving comforting pats from the boys at his sides, Wonwoo can’t quite make himself feel guilty. Not even the knowledge that the bruises around his neck will take more than a couple days to disappear can dampen his mood. He’ll just have to lather on a good dose of concealer. 

 

Two days—a bag of cough drops, a bottle of concealer—later, the boys head off to the airport with no one the wiser. Junhui is smiling and waving at the crowds, white shirt open at the collar to reveal a smooth neck free of suspicious marks. His voice is back, as soft and sultry as ever to Wonwoo’s ears. Just as the rapper predicted, a couple days were enough to delete all the evidence.

Well, almost.

One stubborn hickey refused to blend into Wonwoo's skin, no matter how much makeup he caked on. And of course, it had to be the one right on his throat, in plain view of the public. It couldn’t be hidden unless he put on some winter gear, and honestly, that might raise even more suspicion. Good thing bug bites are common in the summer. _What a pain in the ass._

When he lifts his eyes and catches Junhui’s blond locks ahead, though, he cracks a smile despite it all behind the face mask. 

_But so worth it._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Before you guys start yelling and throwing rocks at me (which I deserve), I AM working on Ch. 5 of TTLW. It's just taking a while for some reason... 
> 
> But as always, thank you for reading! (^_^)


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